


First Comes the Summer, Then Comes the Slam

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/F, F/M, Just Sex, M/M, Multi, Not sex pollen, WWE SummerSlam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: It happens every year: after Summerslam, everyone just cuts loose. Sometimes you have to give in to your generative impulses, whatever the fuck that means.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my drafts. I wrote about half of it immediately after Summerslam 2016 and then after I found out Finn had to vacate the title and was actually hurt pretty badly I forgot about it.
> 
> But here it is!

“You got some heat out there tonight,” Alexa said with a grin.

Dean shrugged. “Enough.”

“Did it make you mad to hear them scream for Ziggler?” She pressed her knee into his thigh, making him squirm.

“Of course it fucking did,” he said, shivering.

“How mad.”

“Not that mad.”

“I know you want to be bad, Dean. You're such a good bad guy,” she purred in his ear.

“I do okay,” he said, hitching up his grip on her waist.

She leaned in, putting more of her weight on him and less against the wall behind her. “I can't wait to see you snap,” she whispered, biting his earlobe.

“Keep waiting, baby,” he said, lunging forward hungrily, biting her neck. They sucked at each other greedily, still in their sweaty ring gear. Dean had scooped her away from Natalya and Nikki and without letting her feet touch the ground once he had brought her to a supply closet he had put dibs on before the show even started.

Of course, the door flew open.

"Occupied!" they both shouted as two heaving bodies crammed in behind them.

Dean let his grip slip and Alexa put her feet down, landing on the floor. She looked up defiantly at Roman and Seth, who hadn't broken their kiss yet.

"Jesus, knock it off. We were in here first," she said, kicking at Seth’s shin. Roman pulled back, looking dazed, but instead of apologizing or leaving, he just dropped to his knees.

"Reigns! Rollins!" Dean shouted, louder, snapping his fingers in front of their faces. Roman grabbed his hand and sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Fed up, Alexa grabbed the back of both of their heads and knocked them together. Finally Seth and Roman looked at her. She flexed her fingers into a fist.

"Sorry, this closet is for *winners*," she said. And then she smiled.

***

Natalya arched her back. "Can you see us both now?" she asked.

"No, I'm just getting Toni," Tyson said over Facetime.

She handed the phone over. "Is it better now?" Cesaro asked. He rolled his hips, grinding up against Natalya, grabbing at the waistband of her sweats.

"Yes, oh god, I miss you both."

"This is for you, baby," Natalya said to her husband, looking into the phone camera and moaning as their lover drove into her, grasping her across the chest with one arm and holding the camera up with the other.

Tyson saw their bodies collide and stroked himself frantically, his phone propped up against a pillow on the bed. He was close to orgasm when he saw in the background the door of the locker room open. His eyes went wide as he saw Enzo, Cass, and Carmella start to walk into the room. Cass put both arms out to stop the other two. He stood there staring at Claudio driving into Natalya, bent over a wooden bench, their moans guttural. Then he stepped backwards, pushing Enzo and Carmella behind him and out the door. With a cocked eyebrow, he shut the door, and Claudio and Nattie never even looked up.

***

"You did so good, I'm so proud," Sami moaned, "so why is it you're going down on me?"

Finn growled. He hadn't bothered to wash the paint off from his match and his arm was in a sling.

He crawled forward as best he could, his head lowered between his shoulders, moving somewhere between a feline and an abomination. He put a hand on Sami's thigh. Digging his nails in he lowered himself to Sami's crotch. He nosed at it until Sami pulled the zipper on his jeans down. Finn pleaded with his eyes, turning his head very far to the side like an owl.

He could only crawl so far because they were in the front seat of Sami's rented Kia. Even with the seats down they had limited space to move. On the other hand, they could lock the doors so Seth and Roman wouldn't try to butt in and steal their makeout spot. (It happened more often than they'd like to say.)

Finn snarled and grabbed, pulling Sami's cock out of his underwear and grabbing it with a feral fist. Finn squeezed and leaned in to sniff at it. His nostrils flared and he made eye contact.

"Oh god, Finn, just do it, please, please, if you look at me like that I'm going to die," he said, breathing hard and grabbing at his own hair for lack of anything better to hold on to.

Finn sucked Sami's head into his mouth and slowly sank down, not breaking eye contact though his eyelashes fluttered and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head.

***

“We were NOT making out, we were JUST WATCHING TAPE,” Kevin snapped, shoving Corey aside.

“Why would you even say that if you weren’t making out?” Tom asked.

“Shut up, Maurice,” Jericho said, straightening his scarf.

There wasn’t much room in the production trailer, and Tom and Corey had barged in to find Chris and Kevin sitting very close. But, one of their matches *was* playing.

“You look awfully sweaty,” Corey said with an accusing tone.

“It’s an exciting match,” Kevin shrugged. “We do good work.”

They stared at each other. There were altogether too many semi-erect dicks in one small corridor in front of a bank of equipment. Corey took a step back.

“So if someone did want to go make out...” Tom said.

“Try wardrobe,” Chris said.

“Thanks.” Corey put his hand on the small of Tom’s back and guided him out, trying not to trip on any cables.

Once the door slammed, Chris’s hands were back in Kev’s shorts, instantly, furiously. “Some people ruin everything,” he said.

***

It was like that for nearly everyone. There was a saying among the senior members of the roster: first comes the summer, and then comes the slam. It happened every year.

Sheamus tried to tell Apollo that, but It was hard to pay attention and hang on with his legs wrapped around his waist.

“It’s the wheel of the year,” Sheamus panted. “We have our May Day in August. But it’s the same thing, the summer...generative impulses...ahh.” He lost his train of thought as he came, but maybe that’s what the slam was all about.

***

Nikki was happy to be back: happy to be back in the ring, happy to be fully recovered, to have a career, to have remembered her toy bag, happy to be double-teaming AJ Styles with her boyfriend.

She rocked her hips and the blue silicone dildo (brand new; what a great excuse to buy new blue everything, she had thought after John was drafted to Smackdown) slammed into his ass. She pulled back on his hair and he choked a little on John’s cock.

“You okay, baby?” John asked.

Both she and AJ nodded. And then she threw her neck back and laughed, feeling a lot of things but blissfully not any pain at all.

***

The celebration sometimes stayed at the arena, sometimes spilled over to the hotel, sometimes the parking lot, wherever people could find space.

Xavier swore as he plugged and unplugged cables from the hotel room TV.

“It’s okay if it doesn’t work tonight,” Kofi said, rubbing circles into his back.

“But it’s Summerslam,” Xavier said. “I wanted it to be special.” He slammed a fist down on the plastic console and then the TV screen blinked to life with a lot of flesh-toned polygons.

“This is a game...for Summerslam?” E asked.

“It’s...a simulator. Of a kind,” Xavier said, coughing. “I thought. We could simulate some things. And then do. Other things.”

There was a beat of silence and then Kofi and E broke up laughing. E adjusted his jock strap and Kofi re-tied his bathrobe.

“Up Up Down Down After Dark,” E squeezed out between laughs.

“No! I. We. We are not filming this!” Xavier said seriously before realizing they were teasing him.

“Thanks for sharing your hentai game with us,” Kofi said. Then he leaned in and kissed him on the corner of the mouth. “I think it’s time to press start.”

***

Sasha and Charlotte clutched each other tearfully, Charlotte careful of Sasha’s back. She was tightly bandaged but had finally made it back to the hotel and collapsed in her arms. The title was put away in its case so neither of them had to look at it and think of all that had come and would keep coming between them.

“When will I see you again?” Sasha asked. “I’m benched. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m so scared. Could be surgery, could be...nothing, a pinched nerve. I hate not knowing”

Charlotte made shushing noises and kissed the tears from her eyes. “No matter where they send me, I’m always one phone call away. One text. One snap.”

Sasha giggled at that. “One snap chat filter away.”

“One dog with its tongue hanging out away. I’m one flower crown selfie away.” She ran her hands over Sasha’s body, gently, following everywhere she had inflicted pain with a soft caress.

“One terrifying face swap away,” Sasha laugh-cried. She pushed herself up onto the pillows and Charlotte met her, their lips brushing, their foreheads touching but their hearts racing as fast as they ever did in a match.

***

Just about the only people who didn’t find themselves in the slam were Brock Lesnar, who categorically refused, and Randy Orton, who left in an ambulance.

That didn’t sit right with anyone. Alexa and Dean emerged from their closet, finally, and ran into Cena, and Nikki, and a dazed-looking AJ Styles (you always remember your first Summerslam), and Sheamus patiently trying to explain how this was all pretty normal to Apollo.

“So,” Dean said. “Tires?”

“Tires,” Nikki agreed.

They ended up in a hotel parking lot after a detour to a party store and an Arby’s. They found the truck (it wasn’t hard) but they weren’t alone.

“Heyman, what the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, taking a drag off a cigarette.

“You shouldn’t be smoking that,” Paul Heyman said, brushing dirt off his knees.

“I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things.”

“Look, all the tires on that truck are flat,” Alexa said.

John Cena pushed his hat off his head and stroked his short hair. “Someone beat us to it.”

Seamus folded his arms.

"I need the work, I got kids in college, but. You know." Heyman's shoulders sagged. "Fuck that guy."

Everyone cheered.

 


End file.
